Технопатогенный мирок, techno-pathogenic little wo

Учреждения Тиранства

"Что делают законодательные, политические, юридические и им подобные учреждения? Они исправляют зло, ими же вызванное".
Пётр Ч_аа_даев.


Не прав Ч_а_даев, зло не вызвало
Тупое быдло гУсударства.
Зло правит глупым миром издавна,
Меняя ярлыки тиранства.

Не исправляют, а под вывеской
"Забот" и прочей ахинеи
Гнобят рабов повсюду с выгодой,
С годами гаже и подлее.




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Главлит,
Госснаб.
Испит,
Ослаб
Поэт —
Сплошь Бред.


Варианты третьей строки.
Избит
Изжит




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Духа глупость — проникать
В Ад Кромешный, там страдать,
Потихоньку исчезать.
Глядь, бездушие кругом:
Мир — Большой Гнилой Дурдом.




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Днесь полдела принуждать —
Быдло можно не сдержать.
Главное — контроль "ума":
Морок поверху Дерьма.




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ТехноПАТОгенный мирок

"Техника исходит из науки, а последняя руководствуется техникой".
Бертран Рассел.


Цикл бреда замкнут — техногенный
Мирок по кругу... заплутал.
Вновь скорость выше — ум согбенный
В МАРАЗМ от ускоренья впал.




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Glavlit,
Gossnab.
Half-lit,
Weak, drab,
The poet —
Pure rot.



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Censors,
State chains.
Weak verses,
Weak brains.
The poet —
All rot.



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Glavlit,
Gossnab.
Poet — split,
Worn and drab.
Every line:
Pure crap.



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Half the job today is force —
You can’t hold the mob by force.
What matters most: control the mind,
A haze on top of filth combined.



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Half the task is done by force —
You can’t restrain the rabble’s course.
The real prize: to rule the mind,
A veil of shit, with thought confined.



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Half the work is done by might —
Hold the rabble? Not in sight.
What counts is ruling every mind:
A veil of filth, with thought confined.



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Foolish souls descend to Hell,
Suffer there, then fade as well,
Slowly vanish, cell by cell.
Look around — no soul, no light:
The world’s one vast asylum — rotten to the core.



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Foolish souls descend to Hell,
Suffer there, then fade as well,
Slowly vanish, cell by cell.
Look around — no soul, no glow:
World’s a rotten madhouse. So.



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Folly drives the soul to Hell,
Where it suffers, fades as well,
Till it vanishes like a spell.
Look around — what meets the eye?
One huge madhouse, rotten dry.



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Pseudo-Spiritual Brethren

“Refinement” — depths without a floor,
In “higher spheres” they reign supreme.
The SENSITIVE can smell the gore —
No Mind, no Spirit in the scheme.



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Pseudo-spiritual brotherhood:
“Depth” and “refinement” — oh, how grand!
The SENSITIVE can smell the rot —
No Mind, no Spirit in command.



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Techno-PATHogenic Little World

“Technology springs from science,
while science, in turn, is guided by technology.”
— Bertrand Russell


The techno-cycle closes tight —
This little world goes round and round,
Lost in its loop, its endless flight,
While faster speeds drive minds aground.



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The techno-cycle loops again —
Our little world has lost its way.
More speed! — and bent, exhausted brains
Sink deeper into mad decay.



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Institutions of Tyranny

“What do legislative, political, legal, and similar institutions do?
They remedy the evils they themselves have caused.”
— Pyotr Chaadayev


Chaadayev was wrong: the evil was not spawned
By dull state cattle, brutal and enslaved.
Evil has ruled the foolish world beyond
All ages, just by changing tags and names.

They do not mend — beneath the sign of “care,”
And other loads of bureaucratic lies,
They grind their slaves for profit everywhere —
And grow more vile and vicious with the years.








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